


Let's Play House

by Anonymous



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Consensual Non-Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Bondage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape Roleplay, Step-Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28385028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: To keep their bedroom antics fresh, Max and Billy play house.-Max doesn’t have a breath in her to scream as she takes in blue jeans and a wifebeater, bare arms thick and strong. Pulse pounding behind her eyes, it takes a few blinks to make sense of blond hair tied back and the red bandana covering the bottom of his face. It’s better than the fucking ski mask Billy had originally suggested. Max flinches like she’ll bolt for the back door just behind her and to the left. Blue eyes narrow at her, hands flexing at his sides as Billy winds up, too. Ready.“Don’t even think about it,” he growls.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Maxine "Max" Mayfield
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20
Collections: Anonymous





	Let's Play House

**Author's Note:**

> I'll just say if you have any sensitivity to rape, you should probably pass on this. Not because Max is actually raped, no, it's just that they play it up. She cries, begs for him to stop, blah blah. But THEY know and YOU know the entire time this is a roleplay between them and nothing is non-consensual. Hence the CNC tag. BUT for your safety, you should probably skip. Also this is not an RP, the _characters_ are playing out a sexual fantasy between themselves. 
> 
> But also this is the last Maygrove fic I have completed! I wanted to post the last things I finished before 2021 in case the worst should happen lol. The 'worst' being S4 comes around and I don't rediscover the muse to write these characters. Which would be a shame, because man I have so many ideas I never got to. But oh well, life goes on. Please enjoy this (perhaps) last offering from me and don't forget to go back and revisit all the adventures we went on. Happy New Year.

How her mother had ever stood in front of a stove in full make-up, itchy pantyhose, and her hair done high Max will never know. The apron tied around her waist adds yet another layer despite the short length of her dress. It’s probably something Susan had worn when she was Max’s age—a yellow dress with white polka dots, thin straps hugging Max’s shoulders. It’s something right out the 50s, not Max’s style, but it’ll do the job. The house is empty, quiet around her except for her bustling in the kitchen. It takes everything in her not to lick raw cookie dough off the spoon as she lays out lumps of the sugary stuff. Max has the tray all made out with its four rows of three chocolate chip balls when a noise catches her ear.

Tray in her hands, Max peeks around the doorway into the kitchen, eyeing the front door. The screen door twitches just outside. Maybe the wind has caught it. No one is home but her—pretty, little housewife. Her husband had locked the door behind him on his way to work. Back to the body shop in his work pants and button-up shirt tucked in with his name embroidered on a patch on his left breast. A kiss goodbye, maybe a promise murmured in her ear—something steamy to keep her excited through the day. So Max stares through the small window in the front door, hums, and then returns to the oven. The cookies certainly won’t bake like this. No sooner does Max close the oven and wipe her hands on a tea towel does she turn around to a figure looming in the kitchen doorway.

If the tray were still in her hands, she would have dropped it when she startles. Max doesn’t have a breath in her to scream as she takes in blue jeans and a wifebeater, bare arms thick and strong. Pulse pounding behind her eyes, it takes a few blinks to make sense of blond hair tied back and the red bandana covering the bottom of his face. It’s better than the fucking ski mask Billy had originally suggested. She just about laughed herself hoarse while imagining him in the getup. Not to mention the balmy summer day. It would be uncomfortable, suffocating for what’s about to happen. Out of instinct, Max glances at the steak knives in the wooden block on the counter. If this were real, that’s what she would reach for. Instead, Max flinches like she’ll bolt for the back door just behind her and to the left. Blue eyes narrow at her, hands flexing at his sides as Billy winds up, too. Ready.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growls.

She does think about it, though. Even twists in her little flats and takes a step towards the door. Billy is on her in a second, grunting and hissing when Max screams in his ear. Thick arms wrap around her to catch her jump. Max’s nails are trimmed down, nearly useless when she scrambles at Billy’s shoulders. Just enough to irritate him. To make it good. Her hollering at the top of her lungs as he struggles with her makes it all the better.

“Who are you, get out! Stop it, leave me alone, I’ll call the police!”

Billy spins them around as Max’s feet kick out. The fridge rushes up to meet her back, knocking the wind out of her. Billy isn’t done with her. He yanks Max forward with a hand twisted in the front of her dress. They roll off the fridge and slam Max into the wall next. Pressure on her chest against the wall as Billy bears his weight down on her. He flattens her to the wall, hurts almost more than the fridge had. He has both her wrists trapped in one of his hands, arms aching a little as he holds them in the small of her back. That leaves Billy’s other hand to rip the silk scarf tied neatly around her hair. It flutters to the kitchen floor and spills soft, red locks about her shoulders. Not for long, though, as ugly fingers twist in red strands to rip Max’s head back. The bandana is still wrapped around Billy’s face, muffling the hiss in his voice when he speaks.

“Poor little housewife, all alone.” She struggles for a second, but Billy yanks Max’s head farther back to snuff out that rebellion. “You can scream if you want to. I know your husband isn’t home.” His pelvis presses firm and tight to her ass, already hard, when he purrs, “I watched him leave hours ago.”

When Max tugs on her wrists only for Billy to squeeze harder, hurting her now, she pants, “What do you want? There’s money and jewelry in the bedroom. Just take whatever you want.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

Billy’s nails dig into Max as he wrenches her away from the wall. Max bucks against his strength, but his hand in her hair has other ideas. Other hand a vice around her wrists behind her back, Billy shoves Max’s head down, forcing her to bend at the waist. Like this, his own body tight behind her, he marches them out of the kitchen and down the hallway. With Max bent over like this, she cannot sort her balance out to fight him. She’s already lost a shoe in the kitchen. If she kicks too much, her feet will slip out from under her and spill her to the floor. Not without losing some hair in the process, since she tries that only for Billy’s fingers to pop some strands free. Max hisses and claws with her fingers to try and reach Billy’s skin. It’s not enough, and he kicks the bedroom door open. Max recognizes the edge of the bedspread for a split second before Billy shoves her face down on it. She is alone for the span of an inhale and exhale.

“No!”

His knees dent the mattress as he climbs up. Billy’s first order of business is to wrestle with Max’s hands again. He’ll leave bruises about her delicate wrists as he grapples with her. Billy straddles her from behind, pressing all his weight into Max. Flat on her belly like this with her arms restrained, she’s helpless except to scream. Max’s feeble kicks can’t connect with all of Billy’s weight on her thighs. She manages to knock her other shoe off as she hollers for him to stop, to get off her. A pretty housewife like her does not curse. So she begs for Billy to leave her alone, tries to direct his attention to the dresser against the wall, valuables hidden inside. It all falls on deaf ears as Billy’s iron-like strength guides Max’s hands to the wooden slats of the headboard. One hand free again, he grunts as he searches for something. He returns with a cable tie, wraps it around her wrists and the slat, and ties her to the headboard. Each click of the cable tie securing tighter and tighter around her wrists ratchets up her excitement.

“Please don’t,” she whimpers, cheek smashed into the messy pillows. Billy shuffles off Max’s thighs only to knock her legs open. He flicks up the back of her dress, and her heart gives a lurch. “I-I’ll do anything you want, please, just not that, please don’t!”

“That’s right, baby girl, beg me to stop. I wanna hear you cry while I fuck you.”

A jump shakes the whole bed when his ugly fingers tangle in her pantyhose and rip them right at her ass. Max’s shrill scream bounces off the walls, a sob turning it mournful and wet at the end as she begins to cry. A palm rains down on her ass. It burns even through the white cotton of her panties, tears a sob out of her. When she continues to whimper, Billy beats her again twice more on the same cheek.

“Already crying like a little bitch and I haven’t even hurt you yet,” he growls, getting to work on ripping her pantyhose wide open.

He catches Max peeking over her shoulder, big eyes wet as they blink at him. Pleading. Billy pauses long enough to shove Max’s head back into the pillow. His hand disappears for a breath, reappears with the bandana once wrapped around his face. Some of Max’s hair tangles with the knot he ties at the back of her head, blinding her. The pain in her scalp is the least of her problems as Billy’s hands seek out the elastic of her panties. One side has a nick in it from scissors. The cut is no match for Billy’s hands that fist the material on either side and rip it apart. He doesn’t even bother dragging them all the way off her. It’s enough to let them dangle viciously torn around Max’s thigh. Under the bandana, Max’s wet eyes go wide with pleasure. She knows Billy is about to give it to her good.

Billy takes advantage of that plush, bare bottom and smacks the other cheek. Max yelps and staggers on her knees. She finds them again with another quick blow from Billy, a sneered warning to get her knees under her or he’ll really hurt her. Shaking as she obeys, cool air rushes over the new ache in her bottom. It pets almost lovingly over the pink sting in her skin from Billy’s hand. His palm traces that caress for a few strokes before he hits her again. Each time, Max jolts where she’s huddled on her chest and shoulders. Whimpers fall from her lips with each clap of Billy’s hand. Those whines sound desperate and wanton to her ears, not as afraid. She can’t let the thrill get the better of her.

When Billy’s hands grab her hips to haul her where he wants her, Max wobbles and rambles, “No, no don’t, don’t touch me, I don’t want this!”

Crude fingers scratch through the short, red hairs between her legs with a sinister chuckle from behind her. Max knows she’s wet, probably rubbed a damp spot in her panties from struggling. She’s lucky Billy doesn’t tear them the rest of the way off and shove the ruined bundle in her mouth. He wants to hear her scream, though.

“Cry all you want, baby, doesn’t matter to me.” His other hands rains blows down on her pert ass swaying in the air. With each jolt on her knees, Max helps rub herself on Billy’s fingers tucked between pink folds. She shudders and whimpers when he swipes messy circles over her clit. He retreats to flick the tip of a finger over her aching hole, threatening to push inside. “You know, you’re awfully wet for someone who doesn’t want it. Do you always lie when you wanna get fucked?”

Shuddering, Max tightens up and tries to squirm away from Billy’s finger. He presses harder, forcing dry skin to her soft center.

“That’s not gonna work,” he sing-songs, dipping just the tip of his finger in her. His free hand swipes the underside of Max’s ass, and she jolts on his finger. “Your body knows you want this.”

“Why are you doing this?” she sobs, trying not to rock back and impale herself on Billy’s middle finger.

The more she struggles, the more sweat slicks her skin. The bandana is almost cool from how damp it is at her temples. It helps take the edge off as Max gives another feeble thrash, another pitiful whimper. Billy’s finger sinks deeper, fighting the tight squeeze around him. Max dips her hips to lean away, but Billy just follows her down. He smacks her thigh next when she bends too low. Max’s flinch pops her ass in the air again, right back to her knees where he wants her.

Wiggling his finger against velvet walls, Billy purrs above her, “Because you can’t stop me. I’m gonna do whatever I want to you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. There’s nobody here to save you.” Billy shuffles behind Max, keeping her bare legs warm with his radiant body heat. His finger slips out with a wet glide only for the tip to wiggle against her entrance again. He dives right back in despite Max squirming and clenching tightly. “See? You can try to push me out all you want, but you can’t. Bet you’re gonna feel so good when I get my dick in you.”

“No!” she shrieks. Max tugs on her hands and only manages to send the headboard cracking into the wall. The springs in the mattress protest her wiggling around. But she cannot escape trapped between Billy and her bound hands. Max sags on her knees, cries with her chin shaking, “Please don’t do this, if-if you leave, I won’t tell anyone.”

Two fingers twist and shove into her, Billy’s knuckles smacking wetly against her. Max drowns the awful noise out with another scream. Her voice will be hoarse after this—not a rare occurrence. She has to stop herself from rocking on her knees to meet Billy’s thrusts. At least he isn’t curling his fingers just right to brush her sweet spot. Max knows she wouldn’t be able to keep the fluttery moan in her mouth if he did that. His other hand slapping her thigh and grabbing at her ass, holding her open so he can watch, helps too. The violence just makes her squirm more, makes her gush around his fingers. Sweat pricks at the backs of Max’s knees, the nape of her neck, but she wants more. Too wound up for her own good, Max’s stomach tumbles inside her when Billy’s hands retreat. The twinkle of Billy’s belt buckle and the growl of his zipper send her into a shivering fit. Finally.

Denim scratches Max’s thighs when Billy leans into her again and rocks his hips forward. The back of his hand and fingers brush pale skin as Billy strokes himself a few times. He’s plenty hard, lets his cock smack between Max’s legs when he lets go. Max flinches, bandana concealing how her eyes roll. He’s such a pig, enjoying the way she shuffles on her knees. Billy’s hands grope her plush bottom as they hold her open. All so Billy has the perfect view as he ruts his cock against pink folds. Max holds perfectly still besides a tremble or too, although her heart ping-pongs off her insides. Each roll forward of Billy’s hips nudges his fat head past her clit. Max keeps her whimpers loud to cover up the wet glide of them together. It’ll only be messier, louder when Billy actually fucks her.

Billy’s hands rock Max on her knees, picking up a rhythm, when he growls, “Yea, that’s what I thought. You shut right up when you’re about to get some dick. Is that what you need? Pretty, little housewife like you probably only fucks missionary with the lights off.” He peels a hand off her ass to grab himself, nudging blood-hot skin between her folds. Almost pushing in. “You know what comes next, don’t you baby girl?”

“No don’t,” she sniffles, shivering now from how badly she wants Billy to hurry up. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Billy hums, mocks her when he coos, “You don’t mean that. I know you’ve been dying for someone to hold you down and give it to you good. Your husband’s too scared to fuck you until you scream, isn’t he?” He leans forward, pressing hot skin to her trembling walls. Even now she plays like she wants to keep him out. She starts to glide open anyway even as she thrashes a little and screams again. Her shoulders and hips twinge from holding this position, but fuck she wants him bad. “Lemme hear you, baby. Say it all nice for me and maybe I won’t make you bleed.”

Max shakes her head, throwing her hair around, and shrieks, “No! I won’t!”

Billy doesn’t need a hand on himself to guide his dick in her. So his ugly fingers tangle in Max’s hair and force her head into the pillow. Max’s stomach tumbles in her again with all of Billy’s weight holding her down. She can’t even squirm on the tip of his cock. He curls above her, heat raining down, and starts to slip deeper in her. She’s just tight enough to make it difficult, and he growls above her.

“Say it, you little bitch.” When Max shakes her head in his grip, Billy rips her head up by her hair. She trembles around him, about to let him slip all the way in, when he growls in her ear, “Say it.”

Sniffling, Max grits her teeth before spitting out, “Never!”

The velvet walls around Billy are still a tight vice when he shoves Max down, rears back, and begins pounding into her. They shake the bed with each smack of their bodies. Max’s wrists ache as she tugs against the cable tie binding her to the headboard. She screams between catching her breath as she cries. It hurts a little at first, but the pain of Billy’s dry skin shoving into her over and over only drives her desire higher. His dick isn’t dry for long anyway. It starts to feel good, the velvety rush of him splitting her open. Max almost moans Billy’s name but clamps her teeth around the noise instead. She’ll make a mess on the front of his jeans from how wet she is. The noises between their bodies are just as lewd and disgusting as she knew they’d be. He’s not gentle. She screams with each slide of thick flesh into her, each nudge of his head straight into her sweet spot. It’s perfect.

“No!” Max sobs as Billy rocks her on her knees, about to send her scooting up the bed if not for his cruel grip on her waist. She shakes her head with red hair stuck to her cheeks, sweat or tears maybe, as she cries over and over, “Stop, stop you’re hurting me, oh god please stop!”

He scoffs behind her, just holds her down harder to the bed. She’s sweaty under her dress, but Billy skirts a hand up and down her back anyway. The caress betrays the jarring smack of his hips into her. Each one knocks a little breath out of Max. It’s hard to breathe, almost too hot in the bedroom with all their clothes on. Sweat and her whole body shaking threaten to buckle Max’s knees and send her dropping to the bed like a house of cards.

Billy must not mind the sweat as he grapples with Max’s slim hips and pops her right back up. Max sways on her knees, hides her face in a pillow as her frightened screams start to melt into moans. When Max can catch her breath, Billy knocks needy noises out of her with each pop of his hips. Little teeth sink into her lip to stop pleas for more, harder, right there. At least Billy can’t see the way Max’s eyes flutter and roll back in her head. The hot rush of him thrusting into her, hips sure and never stuttering, hits her in all the right places. It’s building up behind her navel—that spring he likes to twist tighter and tighter until she explodes.

“Fuck,” he snarls behind her. He keeps having to haul Max’s ass back up. She slips in his hands, and he’ll leave bruises after this. But he doesn’t let her go, doesn’t let up snapping into her. “Fuck, you’re tight. All that screaming and you’re gonna come.” He laughs, starts to slide a hand over her thigh. His fingers scratch through sweat and short, red hairs. So close, Max starts to rock with him. “That’s it, baby. I know you want me. Gonna make a mess when I come in you.”

Max nods, forgetting herself, but manages to moan, “No,” instead of begging for it.

“Maybe I should leave you tied up so your mmm so your husband will find you like this when he gets home.”

Billy speeds up, skin smacking and groans turning deep between his filthy words. Now his hips finally stutter as he reaches his end. Her first so she’ll come snapping and crying around him. Only for him to fill her up. She’s so close with each jam of his head nailing her sweet spot. Just a little more. His fingers scratching lazily through short hairs grope for her clit. It’s a burning, aching bundle of nerves when Billy’s fingers rub harsh circles into it. The thrilling pleasure poured into her starts to wind up behind her navel. So close, so close, just like that, harder!

Over Max’s wailing moans, Billy sneers, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? What if he walked in right now and watched you come on my cock?”

No words left, Max just shakes her head. The rest of her relaxes, takes Billy as deep as he’ll go. A wild shiver runs through her as she rocks her body into his cruel fingers. It almost hurts how he rubs at her. But she needs it, needs just that little bit more to tip the scales in her favor. She snaps once around him and then cries out with her voice shattering into sharp pieces as she comes. Distantly, Billy’s groan tangles with Max’s pleasured whimpers, too. They grow into wrecked cries when Billy’s palm swipes her sore ass again, and Max jumps from the vague pain. Behind her blindfold, colors and flashes of light explode in Max’s eyes. It’s hard to breathe while silky walls squeeze around Billy over and over again. She can’t feel anything except the rushing waves of her orgasm.

It must be good for him, too, because Billy blankets Max’s back and holds her tightly to him. She’s still quivering around him when he goes still. They shake together with Billy’s arms looped around Max’s waist and shoulders. He’s not quite choking her, just keeping her still under him. Each of his exhales roars in Max’s blushing ears. His groans are deep behind her as he grinds the root of his cock into her. Full and filthy, Max buries her head in the pillow under her and sighs. Sweat itches her everywhere, and her toes hurt from how hard they’d curled. Even the center of her throbs from Billy’s brutal pace. But everything is perfect.

Max keeps her knees under her long enough for Billy to pull out and take his fill of the mess. If Max had any energy left, she’d roll her eyes or at least kick a foot out to make him stop. He’s such an animal, no shame as his thumbs pry her open to watch it all drip out of her. Disgusting. Max wiggles in his hands, but a hiss from her slices through her pleasure. Her thin wrists are still tied to the headboard. The edge of the cable tie is starting to cut into her. Billy groans with one last look, mindless to her feeble struggling, and then flops down beside her. He’s just as sweaty and tired as she is. They need the fan or an open window, something. Her wrists first, though.

“Billy,” Max whimpers, flexing her fingers. “Billy, my hands…”

“Shit!”

He scrambles to push himself up beyond her blindfold. She knows the scissors with the big handle wait for him on the nightstand. Placed there for this exact moment so he can cut the tie free. Blood rushing back through pinched skin stings, but Billy doesn’t let her go. They’re a tangle of limbs, of Max’s torn pantyhose and underwear. Max grunts when hands tug her closer. Ignoring the sweat, Billy massages his thumbs into her wrists. Max rubs her head on the pillow under her to nudge the blindfold away. Billy slips a hand up to tug it free for her, goes right back to rubbing feeling into her skin when she looks up at him. He’s the one to bow his head close and kiss her for the first time since this morning. Bobbing her head with his and smiling around his tongue, Max wonders where his work clothes are. If he’d changed at work before driving back home to break in.

“Hi,” Max sighs when he stops kissing her.

“Hey,” he drawls back.

Max groans as Billy ropes an arm around her to keep her close. Even pawing at his chest doesn’t chase him away. Each shift of her body reminds her of what they’ve done. She’s empty and sore now. Plus his closeness is too much heat on her skin still trapped in her clothes. Even her fucking apron is tangled around her. Of course they’d been too eager to take it off before fucking. Max snorts and picks at the knot. Her arm trembles as it reaches behind her. Everything is sore. The good kind of sore, of course. Billy sits up enough to undo the apron for her and then throw it over the edge of the bed. That part done, Billy just continues undressing Max piece by piece. The pantyhose and underwear are destined for the trash. She could repurpose them for something, but to hell with it. She doesn’t feel like cleaning sticky fluids off the hosiery or her torn panties. Billy wiggles around to shuck his jeans and shirt, too, is all skin-to-skin with Max when he scoops her back up.

Big hand in her hair, just petting her, they’re quiet for a spell. Almost long enough for Max to nod off. The warm, chocolate scent of the cookies long forgotten in the oven stops her. Sighing and thumping her forehead on Billy’s chest, she nudges him to let her up. His arm over her waist just tightens. She’s trapped here while lips pepper lazy kisses over her cheeks, her forehead. When Max giggles, mumbles for him to get off her, Billy grumbles into her hair. He rolls them until she’s flat on her back this time with his dense weight half on top of her. When his thigh slides between her legs, maybe meaning to tease her, they flinch shut with a whimper from her. Billy’s chuckle in her hair as he nuzzles her is the tell she needs. So she pinches his side and grins at the narrowed look he beams her way.

“If you want cookies instead of a burnt mess, get up and turn the oven off. I was actually doing something before you broke in.” Max stretches, fingers and toes getting in on it, and then relaxes back into the bed. “Did you come in through the front door or the garage? I didn’t hear you at all.”

Billy sits up, murmurs, “That’s my little secret,” and then rises from the bed after a kiss.

Sleepy eyes watch him stumble out of the bedroom and into the hall. It’s just the two of them in the tiny bungalow. Plus it’s the middle of the day. There’s almost no risk of anyone peeking in through the kitchen window to see Billy buck naked while fussing with the oven. Max hums as she rolls over, blinking at the messy pile of their clothes on the floor. It was nice of Billy to not rip the dress she’d borrowed from her mother. No one but them will know what she did with it when she returns it in a few days. Billy isn’t done playing house with her yet, likes to walk up behind her at the sink and fondle her waist like they’re truly husband and wife. If he’s really into it, he’ll turn the radio on and hold her to him, sort of slow dancing in the living room. The fantasy is nice, but that’s not their style. They have each other. They don’t need a piece of paper to tell them that.

Max peeks an eye open when heavy footsteps thump back into the room. Billy crawls on top of her, handsy despite what they’ve done, and cages Max with his arms and legs. She rolls onto her back like he had her before he left and accepts the kisses mouthed to her neck, her collarbones. He explores her without purpose or intent, never reaching for anything that will wind her up. Although she does have to flick him in the ear when he won’t stop lapping at a nipple. His huff tickles her, but he moves on all the same. Stopping at the jut of her hipbones, Billy slides all the way back up her pale body and lies half on top of her again. Like this, he pins her to the bed. She won’t be going anywhere until he’s ready to let her leave. Max allows it with a sigh and loops an arm around him too to dive little fingers in his hair. Billy’s head is heavy on her shoulder, but she leaves him there. His closeness is comforting after their thrilling game.

Playing with Billy’s curls, Max asks, “Did your boss say anything when you left early? I assume you’re not going back today.”

Billy grunts into her neck, half asleep. Of course.

Max tugs on a curl next and says, “Hey, don’t fall asleep yet.”

“What?”

Billy lifts his head, blinking slow and soft like a cat. Max cranes her head up and keeps her eyes open when she kisses him. His hum tickles their lips, more as Billy tips his head to sweeten the angle. It goes no deeper than them lapping at each other before Max relaxes back into the pillow. Billy stays up a moment longer, hand drifting up to thumb at her cheek and the dry, itchy tear tracks there.

“You had fun?”

Eyes closed, Max says with a smile, “You know I did.”

Billy hums just before lips take hers again. It’s chaste, over after a few seconds. He can never get enough of her, is always ready to try anything she suggests. This was her idea, after all. It turned out perfect. So Max loops both arms around Billy and tugs him down again, rubs her cheek in his hair.

“We need a shower,” she sighs.

“In a minute,” is his murmured reply. 

Max agrees with a hum, skin shivering when Billy’s hands pet over her sides, her belly. He’ll be touchy for the rest of the day, will hotly deny it if she teases him about it. So she keeps her mouth shut as Billy’s hands continue roaming all over freckles and cream. She’s tender at her wrists and waist from his harsh grip earlier. He spends plenty of time caressing over those spots, fingertips exploring the knobs of Max’s wrists, playing with her fingers. No amount of coaxing will deter him from seeking every inch of her. They’ll get up and clean the mess eventually. For now, she enjoys the tender silence and pets Billy’s hair, too. In her head, Max already conjures up their next fantasy. Maybe next time he can sneak into the bedroom in the middle of the night. Or they can fool around in a dressing room. Or under the table of some fancy restaurant. She’ll think of something, and Billy will agree with hungry eyes and that slick grin of his. With Billy, she’ll never be bored. 


End file.
